


Now You're Here and I Don't Feel a Thing

by trainhomeforchristmas



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, But it's okay, Depressed Even Bech Næsheim, Even falls into a depressive episode, Fluff, Isak is ready, Isak? hopeless in the kitchen?, M/M, they live together, they're young and they're learning, though they already know more than they think, with soft words and kisses in tow, you bet his boy fart smelling ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-21 21:17:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainhomeforchristmas/pseuds/trainhomeforchristmas
Summary: Even tries to avoid calling any more attention to his vulnerability.  Though it's when he is at his most vulnerable that he is most exhausted.He's too tired to hide it.Not that he would stand a chance anyway. Not when Isak is so observant and willing to step in.But it's okay. They can take it chill. They always have.





	Now You're Here and I Don't Feel a Thing

Even can feel it coming.

It’s like when a car breaks down. Maybe it’s been running a bit roughly the past few rides. It gets worse until one day, it cries out. There’s grinding sounds beneath the hood and everything shakes. It coughs and sputters its way to a stop.

And then, it’s stuck.

He wishes he could stop it before it starts. Everything would be much easier, and there would be no aftermath to clean up. He hates the moments before it hits as much as the moments after. Because at both times, he is helpless.

His depression comes with foreboding signs. Small ones that could be written off as stress or hormones or whatever else upsets normal people. That’s the scary part. If fatigue hits, or if his patience wears thin, Even panics. He fears his bad days, because they might turn into bad weeks. He never knows if he’ll wake up refreshed or even more drained because depression is slow, but it knows how to strike.

It strikes today.

Well, maybe today, or maybe yesterday when Isak’s jokes started to sound less funny. Or perhaps it was Monday, when he had to coach himself into calling his own mom. Once everything began to take more energy than usual, the days blurred together.

He thinks it’s Friday. The weekend is hours away, and Even isn’t sure if that’s a relief or a curse. Isak will be home. It’s comforting to see him wake up, or to share a meal together and watch shit television. He makes the mundane feel special, like every minute doesn’t have to be loud to be important.

Even doesn’t have such talent. Not when he feels like this. He hates feeling like a drag. He hates feeling like he has to force his voice and face and body language to look like they belong to him, like this is normal. Most of all, he hates when Isak notices. That’s when he has really lost.

Isak is home for five minutes before Even loses.

He knows the show is over when he catches Isak staring at him. They’re on the couch, and Isak is telling him about something stupid Jonas did, something about a Marx X Lenin fanfiction. He’s sure it’s interesting, but his brain only processes a few words per every hundred Isak speaks and it’s all _too much_.

“Even,” Isak says, and Even knows that tone. It’s the voice that says, _I know something’s wrong so don’t bullshit me._ It’s firm but can be softened if Even pulls the right face or kisses his cheek.

“Yes?” Even smiles, but it’s too small and weak to smooth things over.

“How are you feeling?” Isak asks. Even doesn’t know when Isak moved closer, but there’s about an inch between them and a hand on his arm now.

“Like shit,” Even whispers. “So...uh, what happened next? Did Jonas, um…” he trails off, because his head didn’t even let him pay attention long enough to find something else to talk about.

“ _Even_.” The voice is back and it’s worse. “What’s up?” he asks, and that’s just like Isak. Even knows that Isak is trying to make things as chill as possible, as if his depression is some dude bro talk. Only, they’re not _dude bros_ , they’re fucking in love and Even knows anything that bothers him eats Isak up inside.

Even makes it easier on him. “You know,” he says simply. “I’m exhausted...like, I can hardly keep my eyes open, but,” he shrugs. _But my head won’t shut the fuck up._

Isak presses a kiss on his cheek. He stays there for a moment, breath warm against Even’s skin until he moves to peck his jaw. His eyelashes brush against Even’s face and he can’t help but smile a little.

“So let’s go to bed,” Isak says.

_Yeah_ , Even thinks. _Let’s go to bed at 18:00 like we’re elderly._

“Okay.”

**\-- -- --**

It’s half past eighteen, and Even is tucked in nicely.

Isak had tried to keep things nonchalant. Which Even was grateful for, even if he failed. It was the small details that gave Isak away. The glint in his eyes. The cadence of his voice. The way he touched him. _Too gently_. Wouldn’t want to break the broken man.

He didn’t like to see Isak so...hindered. To see a boy so lively and unapologetic walk around eggshells made him sick to his stomach.

His eggshells. His burden. _Himself_.

Even swallows dryly and closes his eyes. Some show plays in the background, loud voices speaking French. He knows a few words but it takes effort to pick them out. He tried to learn French on a whim once. Language of love and all. He even went to France and spent the last of his money on candy and green tinted sunglasses.

_Iconique_.

Is he even good at the whole _being in love_ thing? His romantic gestures lean toward the eccentric. Sure, they make an impression, but is it enough? Enough to make up for when he doesn’t leave their bed? Enough for Isak to overlook the times he skips a shower? He hopes so.

_“Hei.”_ A timid voice says. The show is quieted and the bed dips beside him.

Even peeks up at him. _“Hei.”_

Isak smiles a little and just looks at him. “You okay?” he asks. It really means, _you’re not doing worse, are you?_ Even nods.

“Yeah..what have you been up to?”

Isak speaks, and Even does more watching than listening. The glow of the television behind Isak dances over his hair. It’s getting long, and Even is happy about it. Isak always looks nice, but Even may have a preference for when his curls grow out. He looks at his eyes. In a shadow, they look brown. In the light of his phone, they’re green. _Pretty_. Even glances down and, wait-

“What happened to your hand?”

Isak furrows his eyebrows. “Huh? Oh,” he holds it up sheepishly. “I burned it...uh, I was trying to make you tea. I don’t know if it came out how you like it, but we always have more sugar.”

Even has to kiss this man.

He starts with his hand, though it’s not as sweet as he anticipated. He pokes his head out of the cocoon of blanket and nods up at Isak. Isak hesitates but somehow understands enough to bring his hand to Even’s lips.

Even pops his arm out from the covers to hold Isak’s hand. He kisses it lightly, then lets his lips ghost over his knuckles.

“It’s not that bad, Evi,” Isak smiles. It’s tucked between his teeth and looks a little crooked, and Even feels his chest warm. “It looks worse than it feels.”

And Even looks as bad as he feels. But Isak still loves him.

**\-- -- --**

After another kiss, Isak leaves to retrieve the tea. When he returns with a tray and a cute pink bandaid, Even’s chest doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Isak sits back beside him and lets the tea cool on the bedside table. He looks at Even thoughtfully, then pulls him onto his lap.

Well, tries to. His head makes it to Isak’s thigh.

“Too heavy for you?” Even raises a brow at him.

“Uhh, _hehe_ ,” Isak mutters with a smile. “No, just too small for you.”

Even smiles back. No, Isak is _everything_. A small boy with a massive place in his life.

He stares up at Isak, and that’s when he realizes it. Yes, Isak probably does feel a bit awkward when it comes to Even’s problems, but that’s only because he’s never encountered them before. That’s why he goes about things so carefully. Isak slows down for Even because _he loves him._ This is all new to him and he wants to do it right.

_You’ve made a pretty grumpy boy into a pretty happy one._

(And apparently a pretty soft one, too.)

Even licks over his lips and almost lets it pass them: _I’m sorry._ Rather than succumb to habit, he lets himself live in this moment. Even is not a burden. He is loved and even if he still has inhibitions to tackle, this moment is _his_.

_“Jeg elsker deg,”_ he says instead.

“I love you too.” Isak beams.

Even knows the heavy feeling will sit back on his lungs and find him again. It always does. He puts that out of his mind in favor of a moment of solace with the man that loves him. His happiness will find him again. He always does

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading ☻ if you enjoyed it or want to message me you can find me at rainbowbouncyball on tumblr.


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